


Somethin's Gotta Give

by RadiationGroove



Series: Wander [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sex, Smut, really unsatisfying sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiationGroove/pseuds/RadiationGroove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boone wants to forget. Courier Six isn't so sure. Either way, somethin's gotta give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somethin's Gotta Give

Boone liked the Strip. 

Not particularly for the gambling or the booze, and definitely not the whores, but it reminded him of Carla. They'd met here, and something about the constant energy felt like her. 

He visited the Strip on her birthday, shortly before the couriers' defense of Hoover Dam and independent New Vegas. Spent a little time, and a couple caps, at the Tops with a couple hands of blackjack and a couple bottles of beer. Boone was lucky; walked away with his pockets jangling a little more than usual. Then, the Lucky 38. The smiley securitron (Yes Man? Was that his name?) greeted him happily and let him inside the building. The elevator went right to the presidential suite, no diversions. It was eerily quiet. No one else was here? Carla's birthday had left Boone feeling strange, empty, unsettled. Several people had free reign to come and go as they pleased, Boone among them, but they were gone and left the sniper with his thoughts, a bed, and a buzz. 

For a while anyway. 

The elevator chimed happily as the door opened, and the cadence of the steps...

The courier. 

Boone cracked one eye open, his arms propped behind his head when the door opened. 

Six gasped, startled by his presence, one hand clutching at her chest. "Shit! Jesus,

Boone! You scared me half to Hell." She laughed and extended her arms for him. "C'mere and give me a hug, ya goon."

 

He smiled (as much as Craig Boone smiled,) and accepted her invitation for a hug, wrapped his monstrous arms around her. She didn't feel as small as she had on the road, before the Dam, before he'd decided to go off on his own.  "Good to see you." He mumbled, all breath and beer, his voice against her ear. 

"What're you doing here? Thought you were livin' the caravan life?" She placed a hand on his arm, friendly, comforting. 

Boone stiffened, almost imperceptibly. "It's, uh, it's Carla's birthday. Came to...celebrate, I guess."

Courier Six had forgotten. The date was mentioned in passing, once or twice. She'd noted it in her Pip-Boy, but with all the preparation and hubbub surrounding the Dam...

"I'm sorry. I forgot." She nodded, drawing her fingers across his forearm. "Did you? Celebrate, I mean?"

He nodded, shifting awkwardly away from the comfort his fingers brought. "Yeah, kinda. Went to the Tops. Gambled. Couple beers."

"Gotcha. I just came back to drop some stuff off before I headed back out. Stay as long as you want," Six kissed his cheek and turned to leave, but he took her by the elbow. 

"Stay? I don't want to be by myself with my brain. I don't feel like me." 

She nodded. Boone had been a loyal companion and friend; she would do what he needed of her. He lay back down on the borrowed bed and Six settled herself beside him. She listened to him breathe in the stillness. Could hear a pin drop. He didn’t say anything, just laced their hands together. She was convinced that he’d fallen asleep until there were lips against her neck...

"Boone."

He kissed her mouth, chin cupped in one hand. Six pulled away. 

"You don't want this, Craig. Not tonight. Not like this." She shook her head, hands resting on his shoulders. 

"I do," the sniper mumbled against her forehead. "I don't want to live with her ghost anymore. Please."

"Craig," Six sighed, staring at him with concerned eyes. Everything he did had been for Carla, the revenge against Caesars' Legion, the hatred he had for himself and his lack of action. It was all for Carla and their unborn child. This wasn't him. How much did he have to drink? "What're you doin'?" 

"Trying to forget."

He kissed her again, and she let him. Six let him sigh against her mouth, let his massive hands wander her body. They tangled in her hair, holding her close as he rolled to cover her body with his. He was all tongue and teeth, and while Boone wasn't her ideal partner, Six adored him all the same. He needed her; after all, what're friends for?

"This is gonna be a bad idea in the morning, huh?" Courier Six kissed his jaw, drawing her nails down his biceps. As long as they were both aware. 

"Probably, yeah." Boones' fingers crept up her shirt, across the expanse of her stomach to find her chest. 

The shirt trailed with him, tongue laving as he dropped wet, open-mouthed kisses like bombs towards her breasts. For a moment, Six wondered if this was what Carla liked. Folks around Novac had a specific view of the late-Missus Boone, of her attitude towards life. The courier could imagine that she knew what she wanted in bed, and Boone committed it to memory. Those thoughts disappeared as quickly as they came when the sniper removed her bra with practiced fingers (muscle memory, she'd bet) and sucked at a nipple. She cooed, shucking her shirt off completely before working at his. She dragged the fabric over his shoulders, nails tracing scratches up his skin. It landed on the floor, his NCR beret following suit. 

Boone was hoping, praying that this would help, like the defense of Bitter Springs did. She was warm and breathing and reacting to his touch. The courier gasped when he rolled a nipple between his fingers, and he relished in the sound. Her hips arched into his hands when he grazed the waistband of her pants. She was reacting and real, which was more than he could say for the remnants of Carla in his head. Six took his face in her hands and kissed him, biting at his lower lip in the process. His head was swimming; he had no idea where to put his hands next. 

They made quick work of the others pants. A finger rubbed her through her panties, enjoying the wet patch that gathered between her legs. Boone was hard already, and thrust instinctually into her hand when she groped his length. Then it was skin on skin, her hand wrapped around the width of his cock, taking the time to enjoy the heat and weight of him. He offered her one of his meaty fingers, which she sucked into her mouth. Then it was inside her, his thumb at her clit, and the courier made some indistinguishable sound of pleasure. There was a moment of touching, only a moment of this mutual masturbation. 

Boone hooked her legs over his arms and leaned forward, pressing forward into her body with little resistance. 

"Fuck, Craig," she hissed, eyes sliding closed. He was thicker than anticipated. She didn't remember anyone else since Goodsprings. Six grunted and shifted her hips to adjust the way he sat inside her. Slowly, she nodded, and he thrust forward. 

 

"Don't come inside me," she warned between gasps. 

"Won't." Boone was a man of few words, fewer when he was concentrating. The sniper sucked and bit at her neck, the hickeys developing red on her skin. He grit his teeth against the heat of her and the way she clung to him which each thrust, their hips meeting completely before he withdrew. 

Six took his face in her hands, kissed him, pressed her forehead to his so they shared breath. "Stay frosty, Boone. Stay with me." Keep him focused, that was the thought buried beneath the pleasure. She wasn't Carla, she needed to make him see that. 

And did he ever want to. He was blinded by how slick she was, and It had been too long since a woman had been wrapped around him like this. Despite his training, his breathing grew erratic and labored. Six hardly felt the coil of release tighten in her belly; his hips shuddered once or twice. He pulled out of her, she stroked him to climax, and he came on her hip with a whisper. 

"Carla."

Of course. 

He was weak, arms shaking as she unwound from around him. If Boone wasn't one of her closest friends, Courier Six would be disappointed; halfway to orgasm and he was spent in the sheets. This wasn't about her. The sniper sat up, made to be polite and get a towel, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. 

"Lay down. I've got it, it's okay."

Boone hardly noticed she was gone until she returned. She lay beside him, her arms snaked around his waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and he was asleep in no time. 

Morning came like a slap to the face. 

The realization that there was another body in bed with him put Boone on alert. Courier Six curled herself around him, shifting when he did. She yawned, stretched, and rubbed her eyes awake. 

"Hey, Boone."

"Did...we...?"

"Yeah. It was bad," Six nodded and rolled onto her stomach, "started okay. You came pretty quick, I didn't. Said her name."

Boone dropped his head into his hands with an embarrassed groan. That was the exact opposite of what he had hoped to accomplish. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, though. Because you're my friend, Craig. I care about you. And now we know that there won't be any weird tension between us because we know that sex between us is awful." 

She laughed, he laughed, and that was that. 


End file.
